


let it burn

by biblionerd07



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Artist Steve Rogers, Early Mornings, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 03:35:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2492966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biblionerd07/pseuds/biblionerd07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fire alarm in his building sends Steve outside, but he makes a new friend along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	let it burn

**Author's Note:**

> So, I saw that text post on tumblr about the AU where a fire alarm goes off at 3 am and person A ends up next to person B in their underwear and voila. Here we are.

Steve hadn't actually gone to bed yet at 3 am. He didn't _realize_ it was 3 am; he was on a roll, in a groove, his hands were drawing almost of their own accord and he had no idea it had somehow slipped from 11 pm to 3 am until he was jerked out of his drawing reverie by a shrill shrieking sound.

He cursed as he realized two things simultaneously: one, when he'd jumped he'd left a long line right down the center of his drawing, and two, it was the fire alarm. He grabbed his sketchpad, his inhaler, and his computer, just in case, and then patted around for his phone and found it, of all places, on top of the microwave, before heading out to the emergency safety spot as per the instructions in the tenants' handbook.

“What's happening,” he heard someone mutter in a husky voice all gravelly from sleep. That was a sexy voice. Steve turned around and felt his face catch on fire because that was a sexy _body_ and boy could he see everything. The guy was tall, muscular, and only in his boxers. His left arm looked a little strange, but Steve couldn't place why, nor did he care much when his eyes moved to the guy's abs.

“Um.” Steve blinked a few times, wondering how dumb it would look to pull out his inhaler for a few puffs. “Fire alarm.”

“Oh.” The guy rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye. “Are we on fire?”

“I don't—not currently?” Steve wanted to find the fire and crawl into it at this point. The guy laughed and it was as nice as his voice.

“Okay,” he said easily. “Are you heading to the emergency safety spot?”

“Yeah.” Steve gulped a little. “It's across the street.”

“Yeah, I read—look, don't laugh at me, okay, I know I'm a dweeb, but I read the whole tenants' handbook when I moved in.” The guy grinned sheepishly and Steve seriously might've stopped breathing.

“Me too,” he squeaked. “I like to be prepared.”

“Oh, do you?” The guy leered at him and then Steve was convinced he actually had fallen into the fire. But then there was the sort of vague whiff of smoke in the air and even the idea of breathing in smoky air made Steve's lungs wheeze in protest. The guy looked a little alarmed.

“Come on,” he urged. “We better get out of here.”

But then, of course, they had to walk down six flights of stairs, and Steve was trying not to pant so he was sort of holding his breath, and finally the guy flung out an arm to stop him.

“You got an inhaler?” He demanded. Steve nodded, trying to catch his breath, and the guy yanked Steve's computer and sketchpad out of his hands so he could root around in his pocket for his inhaler. He took a puff and then took another when he noticed the guy watching very intently.

“Better?” The guy asked. Steve nodded.

“Sorry,” Steve said. “Asthma.”

“So getting caught in a fire's probably not a great idea.” The guy gave him a rueful grin. “Bucky Barnes, by the way.”

“Steve Rogers.” Steve coughed a little, but out of awkwardness rather than asthma. “Looks like the fire caught you with your pants down, huh?”

Bucky laughed, probably surprised that Steve could make a joke after his stunning display of wit so far, and shook his head. “It's 3 am,” he pointed out. “I was asleep.”

“Guess it's a good thing you sleep in underwear, at least,” Steve said.

“I don't.” Bucky told him conspiratorially, making Steve blush even more. “Luckily these were on the floor.”

“Luckily,” Steve echoed faintly. Bucky was all lean muscle and tan skin, completely the opposite of Steve's pale jumble of bones, and Steve suddenly felt very conscious of the fact that his over-sized t-shirt made him look about fourteen.

They got out of the building to find two fire trucks out front. Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Think there really is a fire?”

“Looks like.” Steve shrugged. “Though these fire alarms are real faulty. Go off anytime someone burns toast.”

“Would that someone usually be you?” Bucky asked with a sly grin.

“How presumptuous of you,” Steve sniffed, mock-offended. “I only burn pasta.”

Bucky threw back his head when he laughed and Steve couldn't stop staring at the line of his throat. _Wow._ He wanted to draw Bucky so badly his fingers itched.

“You new around here?” Steve asked. “I haven't seen you at any of the tenant meetings.”

“And I strike you as the kinda guy who goes to those?” Bucky asked.

“You read the whole tenants' handbook,” Steve shot back. Bucky grinned.

“Yeah. I'm definitely the kinda guy who goes to tenant meetings,” he admitted. “I just moved in two weeks ago. 6C.”

“6F,” Steve offered. The super popped up out of a meeting with some firefighters.

“Everyone remain calm,” she ordered. “It's a false alarm. A candle was left burning too long.”

Steve winced. Candles were against the rules and their super, Natasha, was not someone to cross. “Looks like an apartment's about to open up,” Steve murmured.

“Yeah, don't cross Nat,” Bucky agreed.

“You know her?”

“Old friends,” Bucky said smoothly. “Nat, how long we gotta wait out here?” He whined, putting on an exaggerated pout. Natasha raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky an up-and-down examination.

“Just because you're dressed like that, half an hour, James,” Natasha responded drily. “Still like to sleep in the buff, I see.”

“A man needs to be free.” Bucky spread his arms as wide as his cocky grin and Steve felt disappointment curling in his stomach. Sounded like they had a history. Even if Bucky liked men, too, if his type was Natasha it wouldn't be Steve.

“So, you two...uh...” Steve bit his lip awkwardly and Bucky busted up laughing.

“How old are you?” He asked. “Blushing like a teenager.”

“I'm twenty-eight.” Steve might've been just a touch too defensive because Bucky raised both hands, palm up.

“Sorry, didn't mean to insult you. Nat and I had a thing, a long time ago. Didn't last long and doesn't affect our friendship now.”

Steve nodded a few times, unsure of what to say, and Bucky gave him a sort of funny look.

“Anyway.” He drew the word out a little and gestured to Steve's sketchpad. “Are you an artist?”

“Uh. Yeah. I mean—yeah.” Steve ducked his head. Bucky raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“Well? What do you do?”

“Cover art for books. And I've illustrated a few children's books,” Steve admitted shyly. He knew he was talented and he loved his work, but he still felt weird telling people about it.

“Wow.” Bucky whistled. “Any I've heard of?”

“Uh...” Steve shifted his weight to his other foot. “Ever heard of _Teddy Goes to War_?” He was pretty sure most people had; it'd been a best seller for a good while and Oprah had talked about it on her show.

“Holy shit, no way!” Bucky grabbed Steve's arm excitedly. “You did that?”

“Yeah.” Steve shrugged, preening internally a little. “I was excited to draw something that would help kids understand what was going on, 'cause a lot of people were joining up.”

“Yeah, totally. Bought it for my little sister when I enlisted.”

“You're in the Army?” Steve asked, voice squeaking a little. It wasn't that he had a _thing_ for Army uniforms. He just—liked them. He'd wanted to join the Army, but he wasn't exactly an ideal candidate.

“I was, yeah.” Bucky looked away for a second and Steve got the feeling this wasn't 3 am in your underwear conversation. “You must've been really young when you did that one.”

“Nineteen,” Steve admitted. “I haven't really gotten anything as big since.”

“Everyone can go back inside now,” Natasha called out just then. Bucky cleared his throat and looked around as their neighbors started heading in.

“Well,” he said a little awkwardly. “Guess I can, uh, go back to bed.”

“Right.” Steve shifted his stuff around and rubbed the back of his neck. “I should probably go to bed, too. I wasn't actually asleep yet.”

Neither of them said anything for a second, just stood there awkwardly not looking at each other. Steve opened his mouth to say he'd see Bucky around.

“Do you want to get coffee?” He blurted out instead, not sure where the words came from. “I mean, later in the morning. Not right now.”

Bucky smiled and tucked a strand of his long hair behind his ear. “Why not right now?” He teased.

“You're, um. Well.” Steve nodded at Bucky's bare chest. “I mean.”

Bucky laughed at him and Steve's ears felt warm with his blush. “You work from home?”

“Yeah. I have a studio downtown but I only go there if I'm close to a deadline or meeting a client.” Steve moved his computer to rest against his hip like a baby and Bucky rolled his eyes before taking it from him and walking back inside before Steve could protest.

“So you don't have to get up early?” Bucky pressed.

“Uh, no—”

“Want to come in for coffee now?” Bucky was grinning, but Steve could see something behind it; there was a cockiness to his smile, sure, but his eyes looked a little hesitant, hopeful, and Steve felt his stomach flip over. Bucky was worried that _Steve_ would reject _him_. Maybe in some weird alternate universe where Bucky wasn't a Roman statue with a sense of humor who helped random strangers through asthma attacks.

“I'd like that,” Steve agreed. Bucky's eyes lit up and the butterflies in Steve's stomach fluttered around like crazy. They walked back inside mostly in silence, at least partially due to Steve's struggle for air going up the stairs, and both were watching the other out of the corner of their eyes. Every once in a while they'd catch each other looking and look away, smiling and blushing.

Steve wanted to find out who had burnt that candle. He needed to send them a thank you note.


End file.
